Manhandling Page 13

  “I’m sorry.” She turned toward him. “What were you going to say?”

  Slowly he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the Nine Inch Nails concert tickets that his brother had dropped off this morning.

  She stared at them transfixed, looking totally winded. As if she’d finally come back to life, she turned and set the mug down with enough force to nearly crack it in half. Then she closed her eyes and braced both hands on the countertop, and he saw her chest rise, as if she couldn’t catch her breath. It wasn’t the response he expected—he’d expected her to squeal and jump up and down. But this response was even better—he liked it a lot.

  Finally getting some air into her lungs, she turned and looked at him, narrowing her eyelids. “Damn you, Hayes,” she breathed; then she caught him by the hair, pulled his head down and gave him a kiss that about blew his jeans to smithereens.

  Laughing against her mouth, his whole body going on full alert, he slid his arms around her hips. “Tell me something else you like so that I can run right out and buy it for you.”

  “How did you get these?”

  “My brother has connections. He was a roadie before he opened the shop. He called in a favor for me.”

  She gave his hair another yank and deepened the kiss, and Mac got real serious, real quick, and he dragged her up against him. She made a low sound and slid her arms around him neck, and suddenly Mac couldn’t breathe, either. Cupping the back of her head gently in his hands, he fought for air, his heart hammering. He changed the angle of her head, then sealed his mouth hungrily against hers. He would never get them to the bedroom in time. Never.

  Laurel moved against him, and he nearly groaned, a pulsating heat coursing through him. In desperation, he turned and set her on the counter, wedging his hips between her thighs. She hooked her legs around his waist and moved flush against him and he nearly lost his mind. This was a fantasy he hadn’t even had yet.

  9

  Where would you prefer your hottie live?

  a. suburbs

  b. apartment

  c. on the open road

  d. village loft

  —Excerpt from Who’s Your Hottie? quiz,

  SPICE magazine

  LAUREL BARELY GOT to her office on time, thanks to that quick morning tryst in the kitchen. She’d had to hightail it home and then get dressed, but the memories of Mac’s hard body were difficult to get out of her head.

  She had to pass Mark Dalton’s desk and he pointedly looked at his watch. Even after she’d reprimanded him last week, he hadn’t changed his attitude and Laurel was getting heartily sick of it.

  She wasn’t going to let Mark ruin her wonderful weekend, except for that tense moment when Mac said he had something to tell her. She thought he was breaking up with her. The look on his face had been so serious and the thought of never seeing him again had made her throat tight. But then he’d pulled out those tickets. She’d been overwhelmed that he would remember her favorite band much less go to the lengths he had to get the tickets.

  Settled behind her desk, she doodled on the pad next to her computer, dreamily remembering his clever hands and mouth.

  Rain pelted against the wide windows on a dreary day, but Laurel felt anything but miserable. She felt as buoyed as if she was bobbing on a warm wonderful sea with nothing but beauty surrounding her.

  A sharp rap on her door brought her head around. Mark Dalton lounged in the doorway. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand. She froze when she recognized them as the draft of her presentation for Coyle and Hamilton.

  She jumped up from her chair. “What are you doing with those?”

  “Your careless assistant must have left them in the copier. So, you’re going after Coyle and Hamilton? Ambitious,” he said in a tone that dripped with sarcasm and indicated she didn’t have a prayer of succeeding.

  Laurel came around her desk, matching his cold stare and snatched the papers out of Mark’s hands. “Don’t you have work to do, because if you don’t I’d be happy to assign you something,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “Laurel, do you have a moment?”

  Mr. Herman stood a few steps away, watching the exchange between them. It irked her that Mark didn’t seem to care as he snickered and walked away.

  “Yes,” she replied, meeting his somber gaze with one full of challenge. She wouldn’t back down like she’d been taught. She couldn’t act like her mother wanted her to. She was sick of being treated as if she didn’t have a place here or was suddenly incompetent.

  “Mark told me this morning that you are working on a presentation for Coyle and Hamilton.”

  The slimy tattletale. “That’s true. I have a meeting the beginning of next week.”

  “I think it might be a good idea to allow Mark to work on it with you or let him take over.”

  Instead of retreating into herself, anger surged inside her, but she held it rigidly in check. She would not act unprofessional, but she was through with being pushed around. “What? On what grounds?”

  “Laurel, we both know that Mark has more experience than you do. You should take advantage of his expertise.”

  “That may be true, but I’ve brought plenty of clients into this business and I resent being told to my face that I’m incompetent. I’m keeping the Coyle and Hamilton account. I’ll land it, too,” she said firmly.

  “You’re getting very close to insubordination, Laurel,” he warned.

  “That’s interesting, Mr. Herman, because you stood right there while Mark was insubordinate to me. In fact, you’ve done nothing about his attitude. If anything, you’ve encouraged it.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’m urging you to rethink the Coyle and Hamilton deal, Laurel.”

  “No. I deserve the chance to follow through. I made the initial contact and my presentation is very sound.”

  “Let me see it,” he said impatiently.

  Reluctantly she handed him the draft. He took his time going through each slide and when he was finished, he sighed and raised his eyes to meet hers. He looked like a man about to eat some crow. “Where did you get this unitedthinking concept?”

  “I came up with it myself.”

  “It’s very good, Laurel. Brilliant, in fact. It takes all the aspects of our company and puts them into a simple, powerful model. I’d like to take this to Waterford and Scott. With your permission, of course.”

  “That’s fine. I have your blessing to go forward?” she asked.

  “Yes. Keep me posted.”

  He went to turn away, but Laurel said, “Mr. Herman?”

  He stopped and turned back to face her. “Yes, Laurel?”

  “If Mark had more seniority than me, why did you promote me?”

  He shook his head. “You weren’t my choice, Laurel.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He rubbed his temples. “I was overruled.”

  “By whom?”

  “Mr. Scott,” he said and closed her door on his way out.

  Laurel stood there for a moment trying to absorb the bombshell Mr. Herman had just dropped. Mr. Scott? The Mr. Scott who owned half of the company? He didn’t know her name. Did he? How could that be? How could he have insisted that she be promoted over someone who had six years experience over her? It didn’t make sense to her.

  Before she had a chance to think about it anymore, her phone rang and Laurel picked it up.

  “How’s my favorite sister-in-law?”

  “I’m your only sister-in-law,” Laurel said sinking into her chair, focusing on Haley’s voice to keep her mind off Mr. Scott.

  Haley chuckled and said, “That’s why you’re my favorite. How goes it with that gorgeous biker?”

  “It has its ups and downs, but he was sweet enough to get tickets to a sold out Nine Inch Nails concert at the Garden.”

  “What night?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Good. You do remember that the SPICE party is on Friday?”

  “Damn, it’s a good t
hing you called. I totally forgot about it. I’ve been so busy.”

  “I’d stay busy with a man like that. He was sweet enough to buy you concert tickets? Doesn’t sound like any bad boy I’ve ever known.”

  “I know. He doesn’t always act the way I expect him to. The inconsistency in his character is weird.”

  “As long as he treats you with respect, does it really matter?”

  “No. It doesn’t. It’s just that I like him a lot. I’m sure he’s also not into alternative rock music, either. His taste goes more toward rock classics like Bruce Springsteen and the Beatles.”

  “I never did get that alternative rock stuff, either. What are you going to wear?”

  “That black lace mini I bought the last time I went shopping and a bright pink top.”

  “Purchases which surprised the hell out of me. Dylan’s always telling me how conservative you are with your Donna Karan suits and button-down clothing. Is this guy having some kind of an influence on you?”

  “He’s teaching me about being a rebel. A role I have to say I kind of like. I actually have on a red blouse beneath my conservative gray suit today.”

  “Do you? I bet it’s buttoned all the way to your throat.”

  “No. As a matter of fact, it has a V-neck, thank you very much. So what are you doing?”

  “Kicking some ideas around for the June issue of SPICE. I’ve got an article on how to bag a groomsman, wedding night sex ideas, and what’s new and hot in rings.”

  “You live such an interesting life.”

  “Do I hear a note of dissatisfaction in your voice? Is this about your job?”

  “Accounting also has its ups and downs. When I try to make a difference, I get treated like I’m incompetent. But I think I made an impression this morning with a proposal to a new client.”

  “Have you ever thought about doing something else?”

  “It wouldn’t make sense to leave a job I’ve spent years building.”

  “Laurel, everyone has dreams. I know you do. Dreams are the most precious, priceless things in the world. I went after mine and got Dylan in the process. It was a win-win situation. You should think about it. Change and risk are uncomfortable but the rewards are worth it. Of course, not everyone is a risk taker. I’ll talk to you later.”

  After Laurel hung up the phone, she felt stung by Haley’s comment. Risk taker. Mac had said that, too. She wasn’t naturally a risk taker, but giving up everything that she’d worked for wasn’t easy, either.

  Her thoughts drifted back to that 27th Street store and the empty windows. She could envision them filled with her designs just waiting to be bought and used.

  Haley had said that dreams were precious. She was right, but did Laurel have what it took to take such an illusive idea and make it reality?

  The more she thought about this, the more tangible it seemed. Opening up her own business, being her own boss and doing what she loved. What could be wrong with that? She could call it Fun and Funktion Furniture. The upside was that she would get to do exactly what she wanted, but the downside was the real possibility she could lose a large chuck of income and look foolish. She was very fond of her security. So she wasn’t a risk taker. She was cautious, that’s all.

  Wait a minute. She wasn’t all that cautious. She had stood up to Mark and Mr. Herman and found out an intriguing fact. She’d have to make time to talk to Mr. Scott as soon as she could. That would require a risk—she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know why Mr. Scott insisted she be promoted.

  In spite of a pair of leather pants and a racy black mini hanging in her closet, she was still a far cry from taking that big a risk.

  Small changes. Perhaps Mac had influenced her to take a few more chances, but this was all temporary. Once he was out of her life, she’d fall back into her safe and sure ways.

  Great, just great.

  THE GARDEN BUZZED with energy as Mac and Laurel entered through the glass doors Wednesday night. They had great seats up front and started making their way down. Laurel had been to the Garden plenty of times and the old familiar arena was bustling with activity. People milling in through the numerous doorways, stagehands working on the lights and microphones on the stage at the west end of the building.

  This was actually the fourth Madison Square Garden, settled atop Union station—the same Madison Square Garden where Frank Sinatra, Elton John, and even Elvis had played. It gave her goose bumps to be in a building so steeped in entertainment history.

  About halfway down the stairs, Laurel passed a very pregnant woman, but Mac stopped and offered her his hand. “Can I help you to your seat?”

  Laurel watched dumbfounded as he assisted the woman to where she needed to go.

  When they got to their seats, Laurel sat down and turned to Mac. “I really don’t know who you are.”

  There was momentary panic in his eyes that made her stomach twist. For the first time, she wondered if he was hiding something, but his eyes cleared and she thought maybe it was only her imagination.

  “I’m just a guy.”

  “I don’t think so. If you were just a guy, I wouldn’t be so attracted to you.”

  A slow, cautious smile curved his mouth. “Why not?” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Just guys don’t attract a lot of women because they rarely care what we want, have an attitude, and piss women off.”

  “Have you ever considered that it’s not my charm that keep us together, but you? That you are the exciting one, the fun one, and interesting?”

  Skepticism filled her voice. “Don’t try to butter me up or change the conversation. I can’t quite figure you out.”

  “Do you need to figure me out? Why can’t you just enjoy being with me?”

  A popcorn vender came by and Mac raised his hand. She waited while he paid for the two bags of popcorn before she spoke. “I do enjoy being with you. You’ve taught me a lot.”

  “About what?”

  “It’s healthy to have fun once in a while. Don’t take myself too seriously.”

  “How many days have you taken off in the last year?”

  “None, well, except for a dentist appointment.”

  Leaning back, he popped a kernel in his mouth.

  “My sister-in-law Haley says I’m not a risk taker.”

  “Do you want to be a risk taker, Laurel?”

  “She said that not everyone takes risks. She may be right. I like feeling secure.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, Laurel.”

  “No, I guess not, but I think about it a lot.”

  “You did take a risk on me. You approached me and gave me your number.”

  Laurel felt gratitude toward Mac for pointing that information out to her. “You’re right. I did.”

  Mac looked into Laurel’s eyes and his heart lurched in his chest. She was so unique and he couldn’t regret pretending to be a bad boy to get her attention. He’d had such great fun with her. He wanted her in his life.

  “You also contacted Coyle and Hamilton. How is that going, by the way?” Mac asked, interested in her progress.

  “I’ve completed the presentation, but something odd happened on Monday that I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Mr. Herman said that he didn’t recommend me for the promotion.”

  “Isn’t he your supervisor?”

  “Yes, but he said it was Mr. Scott who overruled him when Mr. Herman recommended Mark Dalton.”

  “Did you talk to Mr. Scott?” Mac asked.

  “I tried to make an appointment yesterday, but he’s out of town until Monday.”

  “When is your presentation?”

  “On Tuesday morning,” Laurel replied.

  He had to make sure they didn’t end up in that building at the same time. This juggling act needed to end soon, but Mac decided he’d do it after the auction and her presentation. He’d tell her Tuesday night f
or sure after everything had settled down.

  How she took the news was important to him. Their short time together was no longer just about great sex and how compatible they were in bed. Yes, she was his perfect match sexually; open for anything that gave them pleasure, just like last night’s erotic fantasy. But it was becoming increasingly obvious to him, with each passing day, being her temporary lover wasn’t going to do it for him. He wanted—needed—more than a short-term affair.

  “So tell me something about this band.”

  “You’ve really never heard of Nine Inch Nails?”

  “Nope. I told you, I’m a classics guy.”

  “Trent Reznor is the lead singer and he writes all their music. The band started in 1989 and revitalized the Goth scene.”

  “You were a Goth queen? In 1989 you were only eleven.”

  “I was never a Goth queen, more like a closet Goth.”

  “But you did it on the sly at your girlfriend’s house.”

  “Yes,” Laurel giggled. “I did.”

  “So Trent is big in the alternative music scene?”

  “He’s as big as David Bowie.”

  The stadium was filled to capacity and the lights dimmed as the warm-up band raced onto the stage. They played for forty-five minutes until Nine Inch Nails came on stage.

  Blasting a loud rendition of something that sounded like “Closer” through their high-amp sound system, the throbbing music had a good beat to it, but it couldn’t compare to the hard-rocking lyrics of Springsteen. Mac shook his head with a small twist of amusement. He would never have pegged Laurel for an alternative rock fan. Just another interesting tidbit that made up Laurel Malone.

  He could spend the rest of his life discovering all her alluring facets and never tire of finding each gem.

  “I KNOW A GREAT CAFÉ that serves warm apple pie à la mode,” Laurel said as they came out of the Garden. “But we’ll have to take a cab instead of the subway. It’s quite a walk from the nearest station and not exactly in the best part of town.”

  The Garden was clearing rapidly and Laurel’s ears throbbed from the ear-splitting music.